


Sideways

by janetcarter



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Gen, doesn't paint asriel in the best light, implied suicidal thoughts, veeeery slight child harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/pseuds/janetcarter
Summary: Marisa finds Lyra out on the balcony well past her bedtime.
Relationships: Lyra Belacqua & Marisa Coulter, Lyra Belacqua & Roger Parslow
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39
Collections: His Dark Materials Discord Server Exchange





	Sideways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhaized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaized/gifts).



Marisa was beginning to think that, for once, Lyra hadn't been lying about sleeping out on the roofs of Jordan College. For the third night this week, the girl sat perched on the balcony ledge, so close to the edge that, if Marisa did not know any better, it would have been a cause for concern.

The prior two nights, Lyra had managed to make her bedtime without Marisa's interference; whether or not Lyra had actually been asleep by that point was debatable, but at least she was in her own room. Tonight, however, it was getting far too late for her behavior to accommodate their early start tomorrow. And so Marisa finally decided to join her, a silky shoal wrapped around her shoulders and monkey at her feet as she opened the door.

"Lyra?" she said softly, lest she startle her enough to compromise her balance as the light flicked on.

Lyra half-turned her head, voice lacking the bouncy excitement it had once carried. "Mrs. Coulter? What're you doing out of bed?"

Marisa had not actually gone to bed at all. She had been working in her study when she spotted Lyra through the window, replacing her usual method of spying. But there was no need to concern Lyra with matters of Marisa's research just yet. "I was just about to ask you the same question."

Lyra hugged her knees and looked up to the dark sky. Her daemon, currently a dark little bird, had found perch on her shoulder. "I couldn't sleep so I thought looking at the stars might help."

Marisa sighed and sat on the ledge beside her, adjusting her shoal in the light wind. Her monkey dared not jump up beside her. "Ah, so you decided to sit dangerously close to the edge out here all by yourself instead of simply looking through your window. Is that right?"

Lyra shrugged. "The view out here is just _so_ much better."

Marisa briefly looked up. Shining stars splashed across the sky’s black canvas, cradling the city in a chilly comfort. Even with such a view, however, Marisa couldn’t help drifting back to Lyra’s familiar features. She frowned at how the girl’s hair, just as dark as her own, partly obscured her face, and so she tucked the disobedient strands back behind Lyra’s ear. It was an effort to not allow her fingers to linger and to instead pull them back into the shock of air. "Is astronomy something that interests you?"

Lyra nodded, keeping her gaze out to the air in front of her rather than facing Marisa. "I read all about it in this book my uncle gave me. He'd sit with me on the roof at night, showing me where it lined up with the sky."

"Is that so?" Marisa squinted as Lyra pulled at the teal sleeve of her pajamas. "Asriel hardly seems like the sort to indulge in bedtime stories."

"Well, it wasn't _often_." Lyra's lips contorted into a frown, lowering her voice to a mumble. "He's an explorer, after all."

Lyra was full of lies tonight, it seemed. As obligated as Marisa felt to scold her, she instead only sighed to show her discontent. Asriel may have been present for pieces of their child's life, but it was evident he had not _truly_ been there. He was always too consumed by his adventures to give much attention to the people he was supposed to love. It was a good thing, really; it allowed for gaps that Marisa herself could quite easily fill. "Well, if stars are something you want to learn about, all you have to do is say so. I think it's quite the admirable interest."

She watched Lyra's daemon shift into a weasel and curl up on her shoulder. Lyra tilted her head to rest her cheek against his white fur, causing Marisa to feel a jab of envy. "Has your uncle ever told you that there's a constellation called 'Lyra'?"

"Mhm. It was named after me, you know."

As of late, Marisa had been gravitating away from the temptation heights posed, but, heart in her throat, she felt like she had finally leapt off the edge. Asriel had been the one to name Lyra after her birth; he named her daemon, too. His explanation was rather heretical, playing off of the mythologies of old, but heresy was always a fitting subject given the circumstances of Lyra's birth.

The memory of him cradling Lyra as a helpless little infant, during one of the few times Marisa had managed to sneak off to see them without consequence, assaulted her. It was much harder to suffocate these things when staring that same child in the face 12 years later, and when her daemon was too visible to pinch. She had been so foolish to think they could get away with it; to think that a life with Asriel was a life worth living. 

Although every muscle in her face pointed downward, Marisa forced a smile. "I imagine, if you had truly read your uncle's book in full, you would find the opposite to be true."

She expected Lyra to defend her lie, but only the wind whispered in response. Lyra did not point up to the stars above, tracing out the constellation to excitedly prove her experience. Instead, the child stared at the street below with a determined brow. A car drove past, engine humming as its wheels dredged muddy water up from a puddle.

"Why are you really out here, Lyra?"

"I _told_ you," she mumbled. "The stars."

"So then why aren't you looking at them?"

Lyra took a deep breath, posture slackening at her exhale. "I really do like astronomy, I swear, but… I thought maybe if I looked hard enough, I'd be able to see Roger from up here."

Marisa felt like she had been punched in the gut, and she could not even hit her daemon to steady her breath. It had been weeks, weeks of shiny new trinkets and clothes and experiences, and Lyra was still so ensnared in her past; ensnared in the memory of a boy of all things. And even worse, she cared so little for Marisa’s word, for her constant _efforts,_ that she had taken it upon herself to look for him once more. "Lyra, you know I have my best people working on it."

"But if I can help in any way--"

"It's late. Come."

Lyra sighed as she angled herself away from the streets below. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Coulter. It's just--"

“Concern does not excuse sneaking out to disobey me.” She helped Lyra down, hand gripping her smaller fingers so tightly Lyra made a noise of discomfort. Marisa clenched her teeth to allow herself to very slightly loosen her grip. "You'd be surprised at how easily men and boys alike fare in this world. Wherever he is, I am certain Roger is fine. And he certainly does not need you harming yourself with useless _fretting.”_

Her tone was far too sharp to be of any comfort, but Lyra’s yawn cut off anything she might have said in reply. Her nose and eyes scrunched up in a way that reminded Marisa of her features as a newborn, the image of which had been seared into her mind no matter how hard she'd tried to scrub it away in the years following.

Marisa swallowed hard, firmly placing a hand on Lyra's back to lead her inside. Maybe Lyra was correct about being all the kitchen boy had in the world, but it no longer mattered. She was under Marisa's care now, and she refused to let her daughter retreat to a disorderly life under Asriel's negligent thumb. 

She stopped herself at the doorframe to Lyra's bedroom and watched her tuck herself into bed. It was a good bed, made with soft blankets in a warm home that outshone anything she would have had at Jordan. With Marisa, Lyra had access to education, to guidance, to a whole world of possibilities. And yet her gaze remained downturned, focused only on her past when the sky's expanse stretched all around her. "I expect you to stay in bed this time.”

“I will…” 

Marisa squinted as Lyra shifted beneath the blankets. “Goodnight, Lyra."

Lyra yawned again, slightly distorting her words. "'Night, Mrs. Coulter."

Once the door closed, Marisa finally managed to breathe, even if such breaths were ragged. Her daemon looked up at her. She struck him. The same pain that forced his whine jabbed her own nerves; a punishment for weakness, both in the present and past. 

Marisa had taken responsibility for Lyra more so than Asriel ever had or ever would. He’d had a _decade_ to play her uncle, to be a man she looked up to, and he threw it all away for his research. Marisa had given her more in two weeks' time than she ever would have earned under his “care”, wildly running along the rooftops with an orphan boy. And yet, when Marisa finally looked into her daughter’s eyes instead of at the street twenty stories down, Lyra’s own gaze lingered anywhere else. 

Lyra was difficult. She was resistant to change even in the subtlest ways. But Marisa had worked arduously to attain this life for the both of them. With time and guidance, she would sweep Lyra's past away and convince her that this life, that _Marisa,_ were more than enough as they were. She had to. Losing Lyra again, especially to people who had become little more than specks in her wondrous sky, simply was not an option. 


End file.
